


It comes and goes

by ThatIsTheOsbornWay



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Green Goblin - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Other, So much angst, harry osborn - Freeform, problem child
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-10 20:24:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4406291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatIsTheOsbornWay/pseuds/ThatIsTheOsbornWay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Parker comes to visit Harry Osborn in Ravencroft...but he never expected that he would be helping him escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ravencroft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Realizing he was staring though, lost in thought, Peter quickly averts his gaze to the blue ventral to him, and forces a smile. “I forgive you,” he says, but the words felt forced from his mouth. They were true, yes, however it was difficult to get past the cotton in which seemed to be wrapped around his tongue, making the task of speaking that much harder. He wanted water. . . “I figure,” he continues, keeping his voice even, “I should do that. ’M not gettin’ anywhere with the whole spiteful, hate-my-best-friend thing, ya know?” He chuckles, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at himself. He was always awkward, and getting bit by a spider could only help with that so much.  
> Peter mentally dismisses it though, and tries a different way to go about it. Just start over. “Look, I just want to help you, man.” /Let me help you/, he thinks, not unlike desperation

 

How long had it been since Harry had been in here?  
He used to try to keep count, whispering the day to himself in his room, then eventually scratching it into the wall with his fingernails whenever his mind would slip and the goblin would come out to play  
'All Spider-Man's fault' the voice whispered in his head, rough and sharp and crazed for a revenge that Harry was slowly loosing the patience and energy for.   
Ravencroft was a torture chamber, the experiments they performed on their subjects didn't stop once Harry was locked inside, on the contrary he was welcomed into it like an old friend.   
He had his connections from the outside world, Fiers carrying out plans and recruiting people for the grand plan that he had to get back at Spiderman. That had pretty much come to a halt once the Goblin attacked the man in a wild rage. Nevertheless, the goblin wanted his vengeance on the masked wall-crawler. 'But it's Peter' He tried to reason with the demon, the small shred of his humanity that was still locked inside, that he somehow got back once the serum for the spider venom was used on him...and that somehow remained through all the tests he underwent. The doctors shoving him in and out of his goblin state to see exactly how it worked and exactly how much his body could take before he blacked out.   
His head was a swarm of confusion, jumbled up thoughts, and different opinions. He didn't know who he was anymore.. Harry..the Goblin...or something in-between.   
That's why it was so shocking to him when he heard he had a visitor. A man in white fetched him from his cell, leading him to the one visitation room that Ravencroft allowed. They shoved him in a seat and handcuffed him to the table. "You people have some real trust issues" he attempts, only to be ignored by the orderly who leaves him alone in the bare grey room.   
Harry sat there, staring at the door in front of him, wondering who on earth would be coming from the other side of it. 

Peter Parker was friends with Harry Osborn since what seemed like forever. He could still remember when his parents died — a plane crash — and it felt like the end of his world. He didn't want to speak to anybody, didn't have much of an appetite, and he didn't even want to leave his room. Ben, of course, had ushered him out of bed, helped him get ready for school that week, and school, out of everything, was the thing he dreaded most. Kids picked on him in the first place, and he still had to go through that when his parents just died? It wasn't fair, he'd thought. But then he'd met a friend. And Harry helped him through that hard time. — So, they were still friends now. Despite everything, Peter knew he had to forgive Harry for not only what he's done, but what he's become. He could still /help/ his friend. He owed that to him. Hell, he even owed it to Gwen.   
Besides, wasn't that kind of in the hero's job description? Help people.   
As far as Peter was concerned, Harry was sick. Utterly, and horribly sick, but he could be cured nonetheless. Right?   
And even so, Harry didn't deserve to be treated like an animal; no one deserved to be treated like that.   
With all this in mind, proved to be reason as to why he was walking in through Ravencroft doors. Sure, this was probably a foolish move on his part, but c'mon — what was the worst that could happen? "Heya, Harry,” he greets, nodding slightly, his lips quirking up in the smallest hint of a smile. Harry stares, only his slightly widened eyes giving notion to the fact that he had seen his old friend enter the room. The door clanged shut, its metal lock sliding into place finalizing that the two were alone here in the room. Harry had thought about this moment countless times, what he would do and what he would say to Peter if he ever did see him again. The situations were always different each time he thought or dreamed of it.

Once the goblin emerged instantly, lunging on the boy and ripping out his throat with his bare hands. Another time Peter had attacked him, his face angered and anguished and hateful as he killed Harry slowly in his own form of revenge for what happened to Gwen. In a third scenario Harry even broke down, sobbing and sputtering apologies to Peter only to never even get a response. But in all of his scenarios, all his nightmares or daydreams, Peter had never simply walked in and said 'Heya Harry' 

Maybe he was just crazier than he thought. He had plenty of hallucinations in this place, a lovely side effect from the goblin experiments, but if this was one, they had never been this real before.   
Peter was standing in front of him, and whether he was real or not Harry had to respond somehow.   
What came out of his mouth ended up being a laugh.   
It started soft and low, a normal enough sounding laugh as if he had just heard a good joke, but it soon escalated, echoing off the walls as it became more manic, the goblin and Harry laughing as one-even the green demon was amused that this was happening this way. Soon he quieted, training his eyes on Peter that, miraculously, was still there. Harry's fists clenched and unclenched in his restraints. "Jeez Parker..that's all you could come up with?" He asks, this time sounding much more like the old Harry, the one who joked, the one who was Peter's friend

The young hero simply blinks, trying his best as to not portray how uncomfortable he became upon hearing his friend's changed laughter. It wasn't particularly an amused sound, and it wasn't something someone would do to fill awkward silence either. If a name had to be given to it, Peter could only describe the noise as something mad or insane; it succeeded in sending a small shiver along his spine. Out of all the creatures he's had to face, none of them could compare to it being his best friend. Maybe former best friend.   
He had no idea what was going on in the other's mind. Peter decides to offer a little laugh of his own then, and, proving that he wasn't /afraid/, walks further forward. He doesn't, however, take the seat across from Harry. Not yet, anyway. Instead, he only shoves his hands inside the worn pockets of his jeans in a negligible manner.   
He tilts his head to the side, brown eyes scrutinizing the other in the room. This is the guy that was more or less responsible for Gwen's death — and Peter was just standing here, about to attempt at making things right. It seemed absurd. And it took a long time for him to gather the nerve up to see Harry in the first place.  
“Sorry,” he says, lips curling around the word in a soft and light way of speaking. He glances down at the white, polished floor, and scuffs the heel of his tennis shoe against it before sneaking a look back up. “I shoulda came with flowers and a card, huh?” He smirks, taking his hands from his pockets now, and holding them out to show that they were in fact empty; he hadn't brought anything.   
Peter squints, feigning a thoughtful look. “. . . I think, though, if I brought you flowers, they'd wilt in your presence?” His voice lilts at the end of his teasing sentence, and he dimly wonders how long they'll be able to joke around until things become more somber and pensive.   
In truth, Peter missed the humor, he missed his friend. And in short, he just wanted to get him back.

Harry narrows his ice blue eyes as he watches Peter's movements, overly suspicious of the others every action, even though he seemed to be his old self- the hands in pockets, feet shuffling, joking around Peter that Harry knew. He seemed to be completely unaffected by Harry's presence, save for the fact that he remained standing instead of sitting in the spare seat.   
Harry flinched despite himself as Peter pulls his hands out of his pockets, almost as if there was going to be some kind of weapon hidden in his jeans that he had smuggled into the institution. "Yeah...they probably would." Harry replies coldly, the trace of humor that had held his voice moments before now instantly gone as if it had never been there. "I am quite a pro at killing things now, aren't I?" He adds, a dangerous grin slipping itself onto his features as that bit of the goblin spoke for him, wanting to hurt Peter,   
And yet, there was a part of him that wanted Peter to yell at him, that wanted that scenario of Peter attacking him, because the part of Harry that survived was riddled with guilt, he had killed his best friend's girlfriend, it didn't matter if he was crazy or not, it was his fault and he believed he deserved every bit of torture or hatred that would and had befallen him- a fact that now flashed through his eyes, his fear and guilt and sadness all encompassed in those blues, his grin fading away to nothingness.

Peter hums softly in way of agreement, swallowing the small lump formed in his throat. “Quite the pro,” he accedes bitterly, nodding his head, a curt motion. He sighs after that, expression scrunching up with a grimace, lips pressed in that of a thin line. He could still see Gwen asking to be put down, the goblin gladly doing as she said, and then—   
No. No, he wasn't going to think about that now. Not now.   
Alternatively, he only makes sure that his actions are slow (considering how frightened Harry seemed to be), he decides to pull the chair out, taking a seat across from the other. He needed to sit. It was better than standing on legs that threatened to shake.   
His brown eyes stare affixed at the handcuffs keeping Harry confined to the table; for some reason, he feared those wouldn't be sufficient in keeping him very limited. Then again, Peter didn't fully know what his friend's condition was, or what he's been through here. He knew some, but not all.  
Realizing he was staring though, lost in thought, he quickly averts his gaze to the blue ventral to him, and forces a smile. “I forgive you,” he says, but the words felt forced from his mouth. They were true, yes, however it was difficult to get past the cotton in which seemed to be wrapped around his tongue, making the task of speaking that much harder. He wanted water. . . “I figure,” he continues, keeping his voice even, “I should do that. ’M not gettin’ anywhere with the whole spiteful, hate-my-best-friend thing, ya know?” He chuckles, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at himself. He was always awkward, and getting bit by a spider could only help with that so much.   
Peter mentally dismisses it though, and tries a different way to go about it. Just start over. “Look, I just want to help you, man.” /Let me help you/, he thinks, not unlike desperation


	2. Forgiveness

Harry stares again at the ever awkward boy in front of him- something, he realized, he kept doing. As if he dared to look away that Peter would completely disappear, and he would not admit to himself the reasons why he didn't want that to happen. He wanted Peter there, he had been his best friend after all, the one that understood him, the one that had been there for him-even after Harry had been sent away Peter was the one that tried to keep in touch. When they had been reunited he thought that things could fall back into place, and they did...for a little while at least.   
Harry shifted his arms, feeling suddenly self-conscious about the handcuffs that held him under Peter's eyes. Displaying him as the monster that he was.   
But when Peter looks back at him and his blues meet those familiar browns, he wishes they hadn't moved away, to face those eyes again was agony-the goblin wanting to shred Peter and Harry kind of just wanting to hug him.  
Peter was forgiving him.   
Peter wanted to help him.  
Harry closes his eyes tightly, his eyebrows furrowed, his face scrunched up in the pain that flooded through him at Peter's words. He turns his head away, trying to avoid Peter's gaze as he sucks in a deep breath, trying to quiet the noise of the goblin screaming in anger in his head and think of how he actually wanted to respond; wondering if when he opens his eyes, this will have all been a dream. "Now you want to help me" he says bitterly, a low chuckle releasing from his throat, as he remembered a time that didn't seem so long ago when he had practically begged Peter for just that. But that wasn't what he really wanted to say. He wanted to tell Peter the truth, and that was that he was probably too far gone for any help. "I..don't know if I can be helped.." He says, carefully opening his eyes and turning his attention to take another look at the brunette that still hadn't disappeared. "And I don't...I mean you shouldn't.." He stops, sighing from not being able to find the exact words to say about how he felt.  
"You shouldn't forgive me." He decides. The smile that had been twisted upon Peter’s face slowly disappears, a frown taking its place. Some part of him wished he could just laugh it off, say 'c'mon, let's go pal,' and walk out of the whole building. He and Harry could forget about the poison — both literally and figuratively — that had ruined their friendship.   
Unfortunately, however, that wouldn't be possible. As it happened to be, some part of Peter also wanted to shout at Harry, curse him out for what he had done. He had told the other what could happen if he used Spider-man's blood, and he had disregarded the warning like garbage. To say the least, it was upsetting, and not for the first time, made him angry.   
He forces himself to stay calm though; doesn't allow himself to become agitated by his repetitive thoughts.   
With teeth affixed to his lower lip, and fingers curled into the softer skin of his palms, he shakes his head once more. “I've thought about it,” he says. A breathy laugh similar to Harry's most recent one, follows the words. He continues, despite the threat of his voice shaking; something that happened when he started delving too deep in past events of this year. “And for a while, I hated you,” he admits. “I /hated/ you — but I don't want to anymore, Harry. I'm tired.” Before his friend had become obsessed with finding a cure to his sickness, Peter had been relieved to see Harry back in New York after so long. At the time, Gwen had been going leave for Oxford, but the hero had found comfort in knowing he wouldn't be totally alone. He still had Harry. But now? Now both Gwen, and his friend, have been taken from him. Lately, that seems to be how his life goes. Anyone who gets near him dies or leaves in some way. He had to fix that somehow. He couldn't — wouldn't — be alone, and he wouldn't let the other across from him rot in a place like this. Maybe he was just selfish.   
“Clean slate,” he finally says, slightly louder, tone insinuating something bit more care free. “Forgive and forget, right? We'll fix ya. Start out small. Maybe get something to fix your hair, first. . .” Yeah, just go back to humor, Pete. “Do they have mirrors in this place?” he asks. “Have you seen your hair. . ?” He purses his lips, amused, and brings a hand up to gesture at his own head of brown hair.   
Harry looks up at his friend, his fingers digging into the palm of his hands; it was a good thing that the long nails of the goblin had been chipped and clipped away or else he would be cutting into his skin from the pressure. The truth was that Harry was tired too, utterly exhausted from the anger that threatened to burn him up from the inside out. Even before Harry was the goblin he had harbored a great deal of hatred and anger-for his father...for himself. This was the first time Peter had gotten dragged into the crossfires that was Harry's, and consequently the goblins, anger.   
He blinks, trying desperately to stop himself from the reaction that was happening-the completely heinous act of his eyes watering with unshed tears. Harry hated being weak, and tears were the ultimate form of weakness..but why in the actual hell he was worrying about that when he was sitting there shackled to a table was beyond him.   
Through the tears he couldn't help the smile that touched his lips from the all too familiar joking manner that was (or rather had been) the way the two boys communicated, and the topic of Harry's once slick straightened hair was a classic. "Yeah.." Harry chuckles out, and he was glad to discover that it was indeed a chuckle and not the sob he felt building up in his throat. "This place is a little short on the hair care products...but mine still looks better than yours" he says, allowing a small but genuine grin to reach him. Peter laughs. Because, no, the other boy's hair was /not/ better than his own.  
But how long could this last?  
Harry was still a prisoner after all, a test subject to the mercy of Ravencroft.   
How the hell was he supposed to fix himself, as Peter claimed was possible, if he was still locked up in here?   
It was something to be discussed, but Harry needed to say something else first; while he still could, while the goblin was still as subdued as it was. "Listen Pete..I..I'm so sorry..I'm sorry Peter" he apologizes, his voice his own...tortured and broken but still his own. He hangs his head down in shame, looking down at his lap because damn it he couldn't stop the tears this time and they dripped down his cheeks and off his chin to stain the legs of the orange prison uniform that he wore. "There aren't even enough apologies in the universe." His breath hitches in his throat as he speaks and he has to stop himself from saying anything else.   
Peter was shocked. Why? (well, besides the fact that he's been formerly electrocuted by a sparkly blue man) — The last time he's seen Harry cry, /really/ cry, was when they were kids. Granted they hadn't been together much since he'd been shipped off to boarding school, however, the actuality of it all remained the same. And, upon hearing the apology suddenly sputtered from the other's mouth, Peter couldn't keep back the salty liquid threatening to spill from his own brown eyes. When he came here, he hadn't expected an apology. He thought he'd be faced with someone evil — and in some ways, he has — but certainly not someone who would offer both remorse and regret. “Hey,” he starts, sucking in a small breath through his teeth. 'It's okay,' he wants to tell him . . . Except. . . It wasn't okay. None of this was alright, in any sense of the term. “I forgive you, Harry,” he says sincerely, his own voice cracking with emotion. “You're still my friend. And I forgive you, okay?” 

 

It was almost strange; the brunette boy felt both awkward and sympathetic toward the other in the room. The smaller and irrationally angry part of him felt like leaning back and smirking, because Harry did deserve this. And yet, more than ninety percent of him wanted to stand up and wrap his arms around his friend in that of a comforting hug. In fact, he has to curl his toes in his shoes to refrain from getting up and following through with those exact thoughts.


	3. The eyes and ears of this place

Peter had given himself false hope that perhaps the next kind of action wouldn't happen; but then he felt a tickling in the back of his head, a familiar sense telling him to move as suddenly, Harry’s standing, the handcuffs clinking against the metal of the bolted down table as he lunges towards Peter, or at least as close enough of a lunge that one could get while being attached to a table. Peter knew he wouldn't get hurt but he flinches, nonetheless, the clangor of metallic handcuffs knocking against the table a louder sound than he anticipated. Peter only leans back in the slightest course of action as the other stands, and while he still has trouble breathing past the melancholy in his chest, he keeps a calm demeanor. He doesn't pay any attention to the small tear tickling and trickling its way down his cheek. “Harry,” he grits out, fists clenching once more. They unclench. Clench again. Wasn't there staff members watching their conversation? Making sure nothing went wrong? Would they come in and decide this visit over?   
"You should know, that he's not gone" Harry says, his voice a hoarse whisper. "He's stronger than me and he wants your blood.." the once proud heir adds, his head slowly lifting to look at Peter once more-his face printed in sorrowful tears but his eyes tinted goblin green.

"This place doesn't destroy monsters...it creates them." He says, keeping the same quiet voice, his eyes darting towards the door, fully expecting someone to instantly come remove him and deny him of ever having a guest again.  
Watch what you speak of then, Peter supposed. If there were people watching them now, it was safe to say they had microphones in the room; Peter couldn't simply out and explain that he would get his friend out of here. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn't do that. Not at the current moment. In addition, looking at the green chartreuse hues of Harry's eyes now, Peter feared he wouldn't be talking to /Harry/ for much longer. “Sit down.” His tone is quiet, but almost sounds thick, like he's been crying, maybe screaming, for quite some time. “I'll find a way to help you. But you gotta control yourself. You can trust me. You know that, you can trust me, Harry.”

Trust. It was a tricky and fickle little thing. Both a word and a feeling that Harry didn't often use. Those he found himself 'trusting' in his life had always let him down.

 'Peter let you down. The ssspider let you down." The goblin hissed to him and Harry's eyes flicker back towards his web shooting friend. Peter could only stare. He felt helpless as to amending the obvious war taking place inside Harry's head. It wasn't like he could simply snap his fingers, accompany the motion with the words 'snap out of it,' and everything would be alright. 

Harry had almost forgotten Peter was Spider-Man; _he_ was the spandex clad vigilante saving kittens from trees and locking up people like him..  
' _And_ betraying you..' The goblins sick voice twirled through his brain, even though somewhere Harry knew now that Peter's blood probably would have been about as effective as the venom he had gotten himself injected with.   
Harry tilts his head to the side, scrutinizing Peter, his still tinted greens scanning him over like someone assessing a good cut of meat, an action that put the young hero on edge.

'But if anyone could get /us/ out of here wouldn't it be him?' Harry thinks to his demon, his eyes watching now the tear that danced its way down Peter's cheek, and his fingers twitched with the strange instinct of wanting to wipe it away. Harry had been the strong one in their childhood, the one to stand up to bullies and help Peter up, to help him forget about tears and fears. Now the tables were turned.  
Peter's voice had been sincere enough. And Peter came to him, forgiving before Harry had even uttered an apology. Now if Harry could only convince the goblin to hold back than perhaps this visit didn't have to be over. The goblin wasn't known as being the most rational creature, but /he/ wanted out of this place just as much as Harry did, and the notion of using his own enemy to achieve just that was too good of an option for /him/ to pass up.   
Harry went silent as Peter watches, his chin raised in the slightest manner, as Harry, weary from the battle in his head, practically collapses back into his seat.

  
It was a strange thing — to watch pale green irises melt into that of a familiar blue. Blue, Peter was more comfortable with. Blue was a calm, peaceful color. Blue meant /Harry/. Looking at Peter again Harry realized for the first time that he had not actually said anything out loud in response. How long had he been standing there talking to /himself/? He hoped it had only been a few seconds.  
Harry almost wanted to laugh again, this time out of relief because the voice that seemed to never let him rest had suddenly gone silent, but instead he just smiles, a small ghost of his smile but a smile nonetheless. "I trust you Peter" he finally says, his voice thick in a match for Peter's own. He had expected it to be a lie, something to say just to get Peter to trust him too, but when the words crossed his lips he felt the truth of it. As strange as it was, if there was anyone in this world he still trusted it would be Peter Parker.   
After a moment, Peter turns his head to the side to wipe his wet cheek off upon the gray fabric of his jacket. He doesn't allow himself to shed any more tears, and prior to glancing back at his friend, he clenches his jaw. “Good,” he mumbles, his own brown gaze a vacillating and unsure one. He nods softly, and it took a second to realize that he was still clutching his fists, and another second to force himself to press sweaty palms flat against his legs.

Harry sat slumped against his seat, his body just as tired and worn out as his mind. Even though all he had been doing was sitting there he felt as if he had just been in some great fight, and gotten pulverized from it. He hadn't truly gotten any rest since he had been thrown in here, his days filled with tests and his nights filled with insomnia and nightmares.   
This was the first time since the goblin was created that he was actually in agreement with Harry. He couldn't live to his full potential if he was locked in a cell after all.   
It was a strange concept to think of the goblin as having a mind and personality of its own even though it was encompassed in the same body that Harry's (mind and personality) was in. Harry could only guess that this was what it was like having schizophrenia..

 /More like Jekyll and Hyde/

“I'm not sure what I can say in here,” Peter mumbles again, voice low, a small whisper. He glances up at the corners of the plain ceiling, looking for some sort of camera, only to just as quickly avert his eyes back to the other boy “But you gotta know, I can't just. . .” He pulls his eyebrows together, thinking of something to replace the words 'get you out of here.' “— /help/ you,” he says, stressing the word, “without you committing to /be/ helped.” What kind of super hero would Spider-man be if he went out and released a psychotic monster (no offense to Harry) on New York? Harry had to be willing to change. He couldn't lie, agree, and go off doing god knows what to who knows what. Doing so would only end up with facing a life in here forever. Peter wouldn't offer a second chance; it's too much of a risk.  
Harry did, however, deserve at least /one/ chance. Everyone did.  
And as for a cure — ? Midtown's second best in science supposed he could come up with something to counteract the goblin's affects. Nothing permanent, though. . .   
Peter was skeptical, as after all, the last time he'd attempted at helping someone, he created a giant lizard, hell bent on making the human race something 'better.' Not exactly a road he wanted to travel down again.  
Harry raises his eyebrows slightly in curiosity, listening as Peter spoke to him like a therapist trying to convince someone to go to rehab-ironic since Harry had actually gotten that same speech before back when he had a drug habit instead of a demonic goblin creature habit.  
Was Peter actually suggesting that he would /help/ break Harry out of there?   
Harry didn't want to get his hopes up and jump to any conclusions but that's exactly what it seemed like. Harry was smart and observant enough to notice that there was more behind Peter's words than what appeared on surface.   
Harry wanted out of there, he wanted help, he didn't want to be tormented by doctors and goblins anymore.   
But was it a good idea?   
Was it fair to let Peter take on the responsibility of a young man with what at its very simplest was a severe personality disorder?  
He knew that Peter wouldn't just open the door and let him free.   
So was his plan just to watch Harry?  
There was no guarantee of a cure after all, and Harry had already proven that he had limited control over the Goblin's actions. There was no way he was going to just be left alone.  
Harry's tongue darts out to wet his chapped lips, his mouth dry and unsure of what words to say. He had to make sure that his assumptions were correct and, if they were, if Peter really wanted to take on that kind of challenge. "I'm committed to being helped" Harry says, in fact he was desperate for it but he couldn't just out and beg Peter to get him out of there. "But you understand that there are many...things standing in the way of that." He says in a slow and even voice, trying to get his point across that he was speaking of both the testy goblin and the trouble of getting out of Ravencroft in the first place.  
"And I can't get help without you Peter" he admits, if there was really any hope of getting his mind back he was going to need Peter's, and in turn, Spider-Mans assistance to control the Goblin. "You really sure you want to take on that kind of task?"


	4. The Plan

 ‘You really sure you want to take on that kind of task?’ Peter rolls the words around in his mind, giving himself a quick moment to think about it. And the answer he soon comes up with is no. No, he didn't want to. Or rather, he wasn't sure that he /could/. Not without everything ending up in, or involving, some sort of disaster.   
A small, airy laugh falls from his mouth then. The stress he was feeling could be audible in the sound if one were look for it there. Disasters; it was the last thing Peter needed right now, and yet that is solely what his life has consisted of since the beginning. In all honesty, the young wall-crawler was in way over his head now. He was standing in a pool of water, and it was going to drown him.   
How did he possibly expect to save Harry? The scientists at Oscorp couldn't even help /Norman's/ sickness, how in the world was Peter supposed to save his friend with, assumedly, the same thing as he (more or less, anyway). He had to come up with something though. Giving up, simply wasn't in his nature.   
Finally, he breaks the silence with a short response; “I'm here, aren't I?” He leans back, striving for a more nonchalant attitude and semblance. He would have kicked his feet out if he thought that it wouldn't have alarmed the other in the room.   
When he speaks next, he pitches his voice in such a way to sound curious, ultimately innocent. Only for the reason he was ninety percent sure their conversation was being observed. “Do you know where the bathrooms are?” he asks, head tilting slightly to the side. He offers a smile, a flash of white teeth prominent. If there was one place where privacy would be granted, it would be a bathroom. “Maybe I should ask somebody else. . .” He muses, flicking his eyes around the area once more. “See, I never really go before I leave the house,” he continues, “ — and /that/ is a habit I need to get out of.” Peter sits up straighter then, slowly rising to his feet. He looks back at his friend, offering a hardly appreciable, almost playful wink before glancing back at the door he had entered from. “Tellin’ ya,” he mutters. “I'm about to explode. /So/.” He claps his hands together softly, still conscious of not making a sound too loud. He turns on his heel, facing the disheveled Harry Osborn one more time. “With that in mind. I'll make this visit short, and say goodbye now. Pray I find a toilet soon.” His last sentence was quick and jumbled together as he took a step backward, toward the exit.

Harry watches the other in the room, his eyebrows raised in curiosity, his lips pursed in amusement, a laugh threatening to escape him. Because, really, Peter was being a complete dork. And Harry would have told him so if he hadn't quickly caught on to the reason that his reunited (could he call him this again?), friend was acting in this way. The act was overtly innocent and casual in its demeanor, which led Harry to believe that Peter had something up his sleeves.   
  
Harry shrugs slightly in an uncaring fashion, but he wasn't sure if it would be better to act innocent or more like the deranged self that Ravencroft had created and came to expect. "Godspeed Peter" he decides to say, his face a blank slate because that was probably the only middle ground he could find between innocence and psychopath.   
Within seconds of his farewell the metal locks of the door slide open, the mechanisms opening to release Peter from the confines of the room. Two armed guards pull the door to an open position, "May we escort you out Mr. Parker?" One of them asks him politely, too politely, an obsequious way of speaking.   
Harry has to stop himself from rolling his eyes. It was all too obvious to him now that the guards, and who knows who else, had heard every word the two boys had spoken, and they were now pretending to be nice, pretending that they didn't know about Peter's bathroom request.   
Peter smiles politely, rocking back and forth on the heels of his tennis shoes in an almost boyish manner; his 'I really gotta pee,' dance. “I'd love to be escorted out by you two fine gentlemen. But, ah— if you could escort me to the bathroom, first, that would be awesome.” His smile turns to an almost sheepish one as he clasps his hands behind his back.   
The two guards give each other a look, and Peter momentarily wonders if they know each other outside of their work in Ravencroft. They don't say anything, however, only motion for him to follow their exit from the room. Harry can only sit there, watching as the group leaves, and he wonders, with a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, whether Peter was actually going to come back for him, or if this was all some kind of test; a trick, maybe something Ravencroft had put together just to see how Harry would react to it. Harry flinched as the sound of the locks glide back into place, locking him alone in the room with only the small sound of buzzing electricity to keep him company. He always hated the sound of that lock, no matter how many times he heard it, it was this constant reminder of exactly where he was.

'He isn't coming back for you" the goblin pipes up and Harry grits his teeth in aggravation. "That means you're left in here too so just shut up" he mutters under his breath, and that seems to be a solid enough logic since /he/ quiets back down again. 

  
Once Peter was in the hallway, the sound of doors sliding shut and the click of metallic locks isn't exactly a comfort — he felt like he was in a zoo, the animals needing to be secured as well as possible. He stays silent for the most part as he's led down a rather boring corridor, and another, until finally, they came upon a door with the words 'restroom' printed above it in bold, black letters. “So you guys just gonna wait here, or. . .” “We'll be the ones showing you to the exit, Mr. Parker.” Sheesh. Tight security much? Peter gives an understanding nod though, pointing a finger in the direction of the door. “Right. Well, I'll just be a sec. . .” Once the words are said, he's disappeared inside the restroom, leaning back against the wall. He counts down from twenty, taking note of the area as he does so. And damn, these sinks were nicer than the ones back at home. Not that aunt May could afford motion sensor napkin dispensers, but it would be nice. . .   
Oh — right. Back on track.  
3, 2, 1, Peter opens the door, poking his head out, and with a forced smile and a fabricated expression of guilt, glances up at the taller guard, only to peer down at the name tag there. “Hey — James, right? I'm gonna call you James. Do you mind. . . coming in here for a minute?”

The man stares, unamused. “What's the problem?” “Seriously, I swear, it will only take a minute.” The guard, James, sends a confused look in the other's direction, and receives a shrug in return. Peter smiles again. And then, with a seemingly reluctant attitude, the tall (and weaponized) guard enters the bathroom upon the younger's action of opening the door further.   
He closes it behind him, and before the man could comment on anything, Peter throws a punch hard enough to send him unconscious. “I'm so sorry~” he complains, cringing as the guard began to fall backward. He reaches out to catch him before he can hit the ground with a thud, and instead, lowers the body gently to the tiled floor. “You were so kind in bringing me to the bathroom, you really didn't deserve that.” He sniggers to himself despite feeling bad for knocking an innocent man out, but he had a plan, and this was the only way to do it.   
Quickly, he goes about peeking his head out the door again, motioning with a hand for the remaining guard to enter. “I, um, think we need your help.” “Look, kid, I ain't a janitor. If you—”  
“No, no, it's not that. We just need your help. And then I'll be out of your hair, blah blah blah.”  
The man, with just as much reluctance as the last had, enters the bathroom.   
And Peter does the same thing. Expect this guy didn't exactly fall into a deep sleep. Peter widens his eyes, letting out a laugh. “It's nothing personal?” he begins, voice an awkward stutter before he punches him once more. There — that seemed to do the trick. After that, it was only a matter of (again, /awkwardly/) undressing the smaller guard, and putting the black outfit on over his own clothing. Putting on the dark clothing over his own made him feel heavy and baggy; especially considering the fact that when he was usually in disguise, he was wearing light, red and blue spandex — however looking in the clear bathroom mirror had showed him that he could pull off the look of a security guard. And, he kind of looked good, too. He props the two men up toward the back of the area. And then, finally, he exits the bathroom, making his way back down the path he'd memorized when first going to visit Harry. He only hoped they hadn't escorted his friend back to whatever usual cell they held him in. If so, — he glances down at the name tag on his chest — 'Anthony,' would be searching for his friend for who knew how long.

  
Harry meanwhile, had no idea what Peter's plan was, or really /if/ he even had one, but as the metallic lock clangs open once more to allow the same orderly in white that fetched Harry to come in Harry knew one thing was certain...Peter would have no idea where his cell was.   
Harry snaps his gaze to the orderly coming towards him. "Do you mind? I'm trying to have a conversation here" he says angrily, turning his attention to the now empty chair in front of him, and shakes his head softly as if to apologize to /whoever/ was there. The orderly freezes, unsurely glancing towards the chair where no one sat.   
When Harry was /Harry Osborn/ he had this power to get what he wanted, the simple and wonderful power that his name, and sometimes a wad of cash, could have would just about get him anything. That tactic was now gone, and any kind of yelling 'Do you know who I am?!' would just be given a round of laughs. It didn't matter who he was anymore.  "No one is there 24601. They left" the orderly states, his voice calm and practiced and matter of fact, and Harry cringed at the sound of his prisoner identification number-there were no names for the inmates of Ravencroft. "Please, call me Harry" he says, plastering on a big grin as he looks up at the man who just sighs in annoyance. This guy obviously didn't want to come into work today. "Come on, it's time to go" "No wait! Really, just a few more minutes and I'll be out of your hair"   
The orderly ignores him though, releasing Harry from the metal table, only to instantly handcuff his wrists together.   
Harry's mind raced, trying desperately to think of any way he could continue to stall, as the orderly grabbed him by his arm and yanked him up out of the seat. If he resisted too much the guy could, and these were the nicer options, sedate him or throw him in a strait jacket-neither one of those seemed like a productive choice at the time, so Harry simply dragged his feet. His white socked soles sliding on the ground every time the orderly tried to make him go faster. It wasn't the best plan but it would hopefully buy him some time.  
Then, in an act of brilliance, Harry made himself slip, falling to the ground and swiping a leg at the orderly in order to make him lose his balance and come down with him. The two crashed onto the hard white floor, the orderly cursing obscenities at the Osborn boy. "Ah! Shit man, watch where you're going" Harry yelps to him. The orderly stands back up, a scowl firmly set in place as he yanks Harry back up from the floor, his fingers curled tightly around Harry's upper arm. "Enough of your funny business. You try something like that again and I promise you'll regret it" he spits out menacingly. And Harry can't help but freeze at the reality of the threat. Along with the sedatives or the strait jacket these people could just about get away with doing anything they wanted-really this orderly could beat him up in this hallway and no one would bat an eye. He could also place orders for Harry to be strapped to his bed for a week, or order extra tests-all real possibilities and past experiences that Harry did not want to go through again.   
Despite that, Harry scoffed at the man, at least if he was angry he wasn't taking Harry back to his cell. That worked.   
With a hard shove to his chest, Harry was back on the floor, groaning from the sudden impact that only caused the orderly to snicker. Harry takes the moment to crane his neck back towards the hallway where the visitation room was still in sight, part of him expecting to see an arachnid-themed superhero swing right down the hallway, but there was no one except a few guards

Peter was almost surprised when there wasn't any curious or confused looks thrown his way as he walks down the hall back to the visitation room. As far as he knew, nobody wondered ‘who's that guy’ or ‘when did he start working here?’ — Peter just seemed to blend in. That was the point after all, but he hadn't expected it to be so easy. It was never that easy. Hopefully the rest of the plan would be this easy. . .  
While walking down the corridors, he took account of the aspects of his new outfit; a pistol including new clips of ammunition, a fancy lookin’ taser, and — well, he didn't get much of a longer look than that before he's come across two men dressed in marshmallow suits, knocking down a younger dressed as an orange — er, no, that was Harry.  
Well, at least the kid wasn't back in his original cell. That made things easier. Peter didn't exactly feel like running around this place like a mouse in a maze.  
A pair of hands grab onto the link of the handcuffs that connected Harry's wrists, yanking the young man up to his feet once more. Harry opened up his mouth to say something else, spit out some kind of other insult that would result in him still being able to stall the long walk back to his cell but before he could he heard the undeniable sound of someone clearing their throat.  
It was Peter, and Harry had to bite the inside of his cheeks in order to not make any kind of jubilated noise.  
“Hey, fellas, I think I can take it from here,” Peter informs them, voice canting a bit deeper, consequently making the disguise that much effective (or just fun). He flicks his gaze momentarily to Harry before making eye contact with one of the white suited marshmallows. “Looks like this—” um. . . What did they refer to the people here as? Subjects? Patients? Prisoners? He pauses, sputtering the first thing that came to him. “ —/thing/, is being a problem. I'll see to it that he's properly disciplined.” He nods to justify the iffy words, and gestures with a hand as way of telling them to move along.  
If they argued, he'd just have to come up with more bullshit to spew. He was sent by the boss man, something like that. . . He's gotten good at coming up with excuses lately.  
"Thing?" Harry scoffs, setting his gaze on Peter, his voice perfectly angered and offended from the term "Listen you asshole, you just try to lay one hand on me and you'll regret it" he says in a snarl. Peter raises his eyebrows and quirks his lips to the side in a sort of scowl, pretending to be offended by Harry's choice of words. The orderly that had pushed Harry just laughed again, more than happy for the opportunity to get Harry off his hands. "Sure go ahead." He says, shoving the dark blonde roughly towards his disguised friend. "He's being a real handful today. I suggest phase four, that's a personal favorite" the orderly grins in contrast to the grimace that crosses Harry's face.  
Peter laughs then, because apparently that seems like what one was supposed to do in this sort of situation. It was clear that the people here indubitably chuckled at other's misery. One of the reasons, he supposed, why he wanted to get Harry out of here. Hell, he'd get everyone and everything out of here if he could. “Right,” he agrees then, grabbing his friend roughly by the arms when Harry is pushed toward him. “Phase four. . . Yes, yes. That one. . . That one is also one of my favorites. Maybe phase five.” He offers yet another nod, walking forward and practically dragging the other along with him, leading Harry to wonder dimly if his disguised friend's rough actions were more than just part of the act.  
“Have a good day,” Peter mutters as a goodbye. And once the orderlies were out of sight, and there wasn't a sign of anybody else coming, the disguised boy walks forward a step, only to quickly push Harry up against the wall, a gasp escaping the rich boy's lips from the unexpectedness of the motion. Peter’s hands fist in the orange fabric of the other's suit, his serious and almost menacing face inches from Harry’s, white teeth clenched slightly with a newfound volition. “If I'm taking you out of here,” he growls quietly, serious now; all notion of humor and jokes gone, just like that. “You gotta listen to me. Everything I say, you listen to me.” Peter glances out of the corner of his eye, and when someone /did/ walk past them, he was almost surprised they didn't comment or try and separate the two. They just kept making their way down the hall way, like everything was normal. Like this could have been a scene in a library. “You'll stay with me,” he proceeds. “ — where I can watch you, until we figure out something else. Until I trust you, okay? If you're not up with any of that, then I'll walk away right now.” He needed to make himself clear. Set up some rules before he just up and walked out of there with the deranged mind of Harry Osborn. 

So, Harry was right after all; Peter's plan was to keep the insane Oscorp heir within arm’s reach. Many reactions floated their way around Harry's mind:  
The first, his initial instinct from the goblin serum was to attack immediately-Spider-Man was right here, so close.  
Another was to laugh and make some kind of teasing and sarcastic comment like 'Awe, Petey, you want me to move in with you?'  
Yet a third one, with his eyes scanning over Peter's features, wanted to close the distance between them and kiss those growling lips  
Of course, absolutely none of those was the correct option to choose and Harry's sanity, almost like it was triggered at the possibility of getting out, won over all the other instincts, leading him to nod his head in agreement. "Phase four is where they give you an experimental self-healing factor then slice your skin in different levels of deepness to monitor how long it takes to heal" he says, somehow feeling he should explain, as if Peter knew some of the experiments that went on here that it would show him just how committed Harry was to leaving the wretched place. "And you don't want to know what phase five is, so, I'll do anything." He says, his ice blue eyes looking at Peter's warm brown ones with that same desperation he had when he asked for help in getting Spider-Man's blood. He manages a dry chuckle as he adds, "Hell, I'd lick your bare feet if you told me too, if it meant I could leave this place. Okay?"  
Peter stares, almost dumbfounded at Harry's response, before he can finally clear his throat, his brunette head titling to the side, eyes squinting with an almost disgusted and appalled expression. “Really. . . ?” The dark blonde boy swallowed back the lump in his throat at seeing the flash of disgust held in Peter's expression. Though he knew the look wasn't directed at anything the Osborn did, it still succeeded in making the young man feel inherently dirty...tainted somehow.  
Peter presses his lips together, the idea of a /human/ being cut open, sliced and diced — awake and alive? — merely for the sake of an experiment? It was all too alarming. These trials and procedures were done, not for researching in science, but for punishments. Sure, maybe there was benefits to some of the tests, however Peter didn't doubt that most of them were utterly pointless. Perhaps some of the people here even enjoyed inflicting the pain upon others. “. . . That's messed up,” he finally mumbles, fists absently loosening their grip on the fabric of Harry's outfit.  
"The experiment thing or the barefoot thing? Harry manages to joke. Even though, yeah, it was definitely messed up, and that wasn't even all of it. But he didn't want to get into or even think about all that now. He probably wouldn't want to get into all of that ever.  
After a moment, Peter accepts the fact that his former best friend would do anything to get out of here; anything to be helped, and so, he releases the other completely before realizing he still had to act the part of a security guard. Peter abstains from grumbling under his breath, and grabs at Harry's upper arm once again, fingers curling around the muscle there. “Just follow my lead.” The four words muttered from his mouth are barely audible, but he was sure they could be perceivable enough to Harry. He still couldn't be certain in knowing if there were cameras out here, and in that case, if people would be watching their every move. It would only be a matter of time before somebody figured out something was wrong. Harry Osborn wasn't in his cell, and he couldn't have just up and walked away without someone aiding him in succeeding with that task.  
And those two people, taking a sweet nap on the cold tile of the bathroom floor? — Well, somebody would find them soon enough. They could report that it had been Peter Parker who beat them up, left one of them in their boxers like an incident from a bad dream, despite any claims of him doing otherwise.  
He goes in the restroom with two security guards and only one comes out? That alone was something suspicious.  
If they catch him trying to bust out a prisoner here, Peter had no idea what he would possibly come up with. The young heir was definitely going to have to think of something that could make it up to Peter-for all the trouble he was going through...even though he already assumed there would be nothing at all he could think of that would come close.  
There were no 'Thanks for breaking me out of jail' fruit baskets.  
Just as Peter’s about to turn around and start walking, however, he pauses, expression dissolving into that of a confused one. “— I might need you to help me, help you though.” He breathes out a small, inopportune chuckle before continuing. “Do you happen to know where the best exit is for us to leave from?” Again, his words are a hushed and quiet thing, his head angled down low.  
Harry can only grin. His fantasies about getting out of here were more cohesive then mere daydreams. He had put thought into it, memorizing the patterns of hallways and placement of exit signs whenever he was escorted from place to place. And as such, he knew the perfect routes, with the least amount of guards. Peter quirks an eyebrow at the grin suddenly fixated upon Harry's lips. He can only smile in return though, because if he knew one thing about his friend, it was that /that/ look usually meant an ingenious plan. Or. . . Something to get them into utter and complete trouble. Eh, well, he'd just have to hope for the former.  
“Clocks ticking buddy, lets make this fast.”  
"Go straight down this corridor, turn on the first right, then the 2nd left..should get us right to an exit." Harry says matter of factly, making sure to follow Peter's lead and keep his voice in that of a whisper. "After that...well the hardest part will be getting out the main gate." Harry admits, what with the high fence and guard dogs led by armored security, they would need to either have a damn good excuse or move really fast in order to get out of there without a hitch.  
"Cross that bridge when we get to it?" He suggests.  
“The things I do for you, Osborn,” the young hero mutters, but it was all in good nature. “C'mon.”  
Harry snickers softly to himself, finding at least some humor in the fact that Peter was bailing him out of trouble...again. Harry might have been the one to stand up to bullies in their childhood but Peter was the one to calm things down if they got out of hand, or took the blame, like when Harry had broken one of Aunt May's lamps or…well there were a lot of examples.  
Peter starts dragging the other along down the hallway by his arm, and when coming upon the first fork in the road, makes the turn right. Now just keep going, and turn at the second left. Didn't sound too terribly complicated — and, in fact, it wasn't. If they saw someone walk past, Peter simply averted his eyes. Within a minute, they stood at a small exit, a diminutive and caged window showing the outside world beyond these doors.  
He stops, flicking his gaze back down the hall one more time before releasing his grip on his friend in order to turn the knob.  
Turn the knob. . . And . . . it was locked. Of course, why wouldn't it be? Nothing could be too easy.  
Peter turns to glare at his friend, extending his hands out slightly by his side. “What now, genius?” he asks. "Hey, don't look at me." Harry says, holding up his still handcuffed hands in an act of defense from Peter's glare.  
The secret spider huffs, soft brown eyes glancing down at his new outfit. There had to be something. . . A certain sort of key. The disguised boy practically goes about patting himself down in his search for something, absently waiting for some sort of snarky reply from the other across from him. Which quickly came “Ya know, I never got to stroll over to it to find out if it was locked or not. What, you don't have heat rays in your little kit of super powers?" Harry asks in a snarky tone of voice.  
“Do you see me carrying around a super-hero emergency kit?” Peter asks, rolling his eyes then frowns at the compartments of the strange belt he wore, cocking his head to the side a bit when contemplating a laminated paper attached with a metallic clip. Essentially, it appeared to be a barcode.  
Peter unclips the card, flipping it around between two fingers before looking back at the advanced lock slot on the door. It could work?  
"Well then, maybe you can actually turn into a spider and craw-" Harry begins, but his teasing is stopped mid-sentence as Peter was suddenly holding the discovered card up for him to inspect.  
Man, it was a really good idea to steal clothes from a guard.  
Harry nods his affirmation quickly, vaguely remembering that all of the people in the building (that could actually leave on their own free will) had those same kind of cards "Yeah that should work"  
Peter chuckles quietly, flipping the card skillfully in his hand before slipping it in the little metallic slot on the door. A small beep sounds, a green light next to the door knob blinks twice, and then there's a click — “voilà,” he smirks, pushing the exit open with two fingers pressed against the metal. “Am I good or good?”  
He turns back to look at his friend before grabbing at his arm again, the motion becoming repetitive at this point. “This is the only get out of jail free card you get,” he says, nodding toward the view outside. “Surprising though,” he smiles “— you were so good at monopoly.” Peter begins to pull on his friend, gentler than before now that there didn't seem to be anyone around — it wasn't like somebody couldn't come out of nowhere though. Always expect the unexpected, right? Besides, they hadn't even gotten to the main gate yet; apparently, the boss level, according to Harry anyway.  
Working through a list of excuses in his mind then, he kicks the door shut with the heel of his tennis shoe (the only thing out of place with his outfit), and could only come up with a few things, the most reasonable one being that he was the one with the order to start bringing the subordinates to the 'new location.' What was the new location? In reality it was made up. But, if he got asked that question he'd simply reply with something snarky like 'wow, I really wonder how idiots like you work here. Guess there's a reason why /I'm/ takin them instead of /you/.'  
Harry follows after Peter towards the main gate, and as the guards came into sight he quickly put his head down in an act of submission-and so they wouldn't recognize that he wasn't supposed to be out here. Harry had no more power with words or explanations anymore, anything he could possibly say would just be quickly ignored in this scenario. So, he really hoped his disguised rescuer would have some kind of plan. It wasn't as if they could just take off in a run out of there...at least, not without the gates getting opened first.  
The guards manning the entrance of the main gate turn their attention to the pair of boys as they approach, one of them holding up a hand in an order for them to stop. "Officer, what are you doing with that inmate?" The tall man asks.  
“Evening,” Peter says as greeting, voice once again tilting downward with his (probably) unnecessary disguised accentuation. “I've got orders to begin transferring some of the inmates to the new ordinance institute.” He tries using as many bigger words as he could in attempt at making himself seem as if he truly did work here, as if he did in fact, know what he was doing. “I assume more will be brought out during the rest of the day — you can be expecting a few of us to be coming back and forth throughout here.” Peter glances behind him at his friend, swallowing back the first sense of concern since exiting the building of Ravencroft. He quickly returns his attention to the pair of guards though, lifting a hand up in a tired gesture. “I gotta make this quick, so, if you could let us get goin now, that'd be real great.”  
Harry's heart was pounding with such strength in his chest he was absolutely sure that the others would be able to hear it. But he remained still and subdued next to Peter. Willing every insane instinct of himself and the Goblin to /please dear god/ not make a move.  
This was the moment of truth.  
The guard that had questioned Peter raises his eyebrows glancing over at the other armed man next to him "New ordinance institute?" He questions, causing his companion to frown. "I haven't heard anything about that. You know how the damn orderlies and doctors are though, they treat us like we're some kind of mall security." He scoffs before taking a look at Harry and Peter, narrowing his eyes as if he was trying to figure out who the taller of the boys was. "Don't know why they have to do it one inmate at a time. They have one of the escort vans already out there?" The first guard asks. Peter swallows, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. He pushes past the nerves though, forcing himself to go through with this. He was doing fine! It wasn't like he's never pretended to be anyone but himself before. The disguised boy breathes out a large sigh of what he hoped came off as annoyance instead of stress. His shoulders rise and fall in that of a shrug. “Vans are already out there, I'm surprised you didn't get the call that we were doin this today,” he finishes. /C'mon, c'mon/, he urges, and almost like a reflex, his fingers dig slightly into Harry's arm with his worry that this wouldn't work. It would work though. But maybe it wouldn't? “Look,” he speaks up again, “we're not supposed to be late getting there, so let's skip the formalities shall we? There'll be more guards waiting for the same thing as me at this rate.” Just open the damn gate! He almost wanted to scream at the idiots — mall cops — who couldn't just take an order. Granted, 'LIAR' might as well have been written across his forehead in bold, black letters, but he had to give himself some credit; most people wouldn't have even managed to make it one step out of the building with a prisoner  
Harry felt absolutely helpless in the situation they were faced with. And the young prisoner was slowly losing patience at these stupid guards for not just listening and opening the damn gates. /There was always the option of attacking/ he thought. And he could practically see the visualization of his plan-grabbing the taser that was attached to Peter's security guard belt and quickly zapping the two armored men before reaching over and opening the gates himself.  
Of course, it would be rather difficult to do in handcuffs, and Peter did tell him to do whatever he said and follow his lead. And that action, he decided, wouldn't follow any of those directions.  
The guards still looked unsure, and one of them began to reach for his radio (probably to ask about the orders) So Harry, using basically the only toolset he had right now, hoped the agitated crazy person routine could work in his favor again.  
He began writhing, yanking and struggling on Peter's grip as if he was trying to get away. "Let me go!!" He yells, snarling and then lunging towards one of the guards who quickly backs away. For a horrible moment, the wall crawler holding the suddenly crazed man isn't sure if this was a new part of the plan, or if the goblin has decided to pop up and say hello.  
"Jeez, you better get him in there quickly" the guard huffs, abandoning his hold on his radio and pressing a few controls on a panel that, thankfully, reeled open the gates.  
Peter tightens his hold on Harry, using both his hands to do the job. “Hey!” he warns, tugging on his friend, only to roughly push him forward past the now /opened/ gate. He offers a thankful nod toward the man who made doing so accessible, and begins to move at a quicker pace. Not exactly running, no, he didn't want to actually look the part of escaping. Speed walking might be a good description for it.  
Ah — but they made it out! Spider-man broke the insane freak who killed his girl-friend out of jail. Sometimes he wondered who the insane one between the two really was. . . “You wanna know something?” Peter grins, glancing behind him at the gate before settling his brown gaze to the boy across from him. “— I got a ride here,” he admits, his walking persisting. “So, we're pretty much screwed as far as a getaway car goes.”


	5. Stranded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy's made it out of Ravencroft...but they're not out of hot water yet.

 Harry froze, staring at the other boy with a look of disbelief. "Seriously? Well good Peter. Yeah, it sure won't look weird just casually walking away from here and into town with us dressed this way and me still in handcuffs." He says sarcastically before cursing under his breath "Shit, what are we going to do now? I can't just call a car to pick us up like I used to" he mutters, somewhat bitterly. Peter just rolls his eyes, and when Harry pauses to speak, Peter tugs him forward again, not wanting to waste any time getting away from here. Harry huffs out a breath of annoyance, he was getting really sick of being tugged along like some disobeying dog.

 “Believe it or not, I didn't exactly plan on breaking you out of here. I just came to visit, and then. . . Well, yeah.” He shakes his head at himself. If anything he could have left and then came back with a /proper/ plan. Now he'd been in deep trouble if someone caught him — and that was putting it nicely.  
“Besides,” he adds, “handcuffs are the least of your worries. And I got another idea, so. I'm awesome.” Peter's lips twitch in the faint hint of a smirk, eyes following the path ahead of him. Across the street, there was a smaller looking building, and if he had to guess what it was, he'd say it was a gas station judging by the pumps outside of it. Right next to an institute for the criminally psychotic, what a wonderful place to buy a candy bar and some fuel!  
“We can change clothes in the place up here,” he explains, meanwhile hoping the sound of alarms or sirens didn't go off in any second (it didn't help that this was New York and those sounds went off about 24/7). The guards at the gate might have called in to assure that there really was orders given about a new location. The people in the bathroom could have woken up by now. .

 "That's your idea?" Harry questions, his doubt at the so called 'awesome' plan obvious in his voice. The place that Peter pointed out just looked like a rundown gas station to the heir, and it didn't seem to him like it would have a very wide array of clothes to choose from, and he hadn't exactly packed a bag for the unexpected trip. He was growing more tense and nervous the longer they were out in public, the longer his uniform and handcuffs seemed to be a beacon for anyone that would be coming after the boys-a warning alarm all their own.

“ I can call somebody. . .” Peter began…but who? Aunt May? Yikes, Peter did /not/ want to drag her into this. He'd figure it out though. He's been good at improvising up till now. “You really don't know /anyone/ that could help us out?” he questions hesitantly.

“Who the hell would I kn-.." Harry begins to snap at his brunette friend, because why would he know anyone that would help him, he wasn't exactly the most friendly person even before he was the goblin, but then he stops mid-sentence as a person enters his mind. A person who had been there to bring him coffee, and clean his angered messes, to calm his shaking hands; a person who saw what he had become first hand and wouldn't even run away until he told them to.  
Yeah, he knew who he could call. "You at least bring a cell phone with you?" He asks, his blue eyes looking over at his still disguised friend. Peter turns to look back at his friend, lips parted with yet another smile. “I got a phone, I'm not a grandma,” he comments. Upon arriving at the paved street though, he glances both ways. Traffic was a joke, as it always was, and Peter has to refrain from simply throwing his friend over his shoulder and just running across the distance. The traffic and noise of New York that Harry used to be so accustomed to-even really used to love-suddenly seemed too loud, too distracting. Harry wanted to scream back at the loud noises or at the very least cover his ears. After a while though, Peter sees an opening in the chaos, and without consulting his partner in crime any further, begins to dash across the street. He still drags Harry along with him, as it's become something he's been accustomed to since putting this disguise on, and in addition, didn't want the other to fall behind.   
The sound of horns honking only serves to be an annoyance, particularly because he knew he wouldn't get hit by one. The worst that could happen was being nudged by somebody's bumper. Peter only pauses once to let a vehicle too close move by, before he's off and running again. “Buddy system,” he pants when slowing to the other side of the road, now out of the busy scene of they had been stuck in moments ago. “You're going to the bathroom with me.”.

Harry almost laughed, thinking the taller boy was continuing on with the whole 'buddy system' mentality before he realized he was being serious.. Well, he had to admit it made sense. Peter still didn't trust him, and Harry couldn't exactly blame or even be mad at him for that.. Trust had to be earned. "Yeah..okay..but no peeking" he smirks again before he heads off to the bathroom, this time making the other boy get dragged along by him, since Peter did still have hold on him. He was wasting no more time.   
Harry was ready to get rid of this ugly orange insanity suit.

“No promises,” Peter jokes, and before he can say anything else, he's the one being pulled along. Peter whistles, chuckling thereafter. “Little eager there, are we?” He stumbles behind Harry before coming up next to him, and hopefully, before anybody could notice them, they were standing inside the men's restroom. This one was definitely not as nice as the bathroom in Ravencroft. Actually, this one was kind of gross, dust gathering in a few corners if he looked. But he wasn't about to complain anytime soon, at least this place wasn't a damn dungeon.  
He looks around the area for a moment to make sure that no one was in here — thankfully the place was empty. For now, anyway.

  
“Here,” Peter says, taking a step forward, one hand grabbing onto Harry's wrist, the other moving to hold the cold chain in which linked the handcuffs together. With one quick motion, he pulls, the sound of metal clinking together consequently ringing throughout the room; the restraint was broken. Peter grins, raising his eyebrows as he lets his hands fall limply to his side. “Told you the handcuffs were the least of your worries," he brags, and goes about removing his stupid disguise to search for the cellphone in the denim pocket of his jeans. Harry grins rubbing the new freeness of his skin "You're really good at that, this must not be your first jail break" he joked before standing there somewhat awkwardly, waiting as Peter pulled off his disguise. "I could just wear that.." Harry figures out, reaching out for the discarded guard uniform before Peter even had a chance to get the whole thing off. Harry wondered briefly if he should just put the ensemble on over his orange cotton, just as Peter had done with his outfit, but he was antsy..he felt itchy and disgusting in his outfit for the insane and he wanted to shed that skin, so to speak. In a flash he yanked the orange shirt over his head revealing both his thinner than ever frame and skin now riddled with scars.Peter can't help his gaze catching on the pale skin that had definitely not been so marked up when they were kids; swimming with his friend before had proven that he wasn't born with scars like that. No one was born with scars like that, and Peter briefly refrains from shuddering at the thought of 'phase four.' Did Harry really have to go through with that or had they all just been threats? Warnings to obviate the inmates from disobeying? He might have asked if he didn't think it wouldn't be appropriate. Hastily Harry grabs the guards shirt, replacing his blemished paleness with the black material before repeating the speedy process with his pants. The clothes from the guard were much too big for the blue eyed boy, and he kind of looked ridiculous in the baggy clothes with his hair still all disheveled. At least it was better than the bright orange...which, he was thinking twice about having thrown away. Well, they would soon find out he was gone anyways, so what would it matter if they found out he had stopped by the gas station to change? The boys would, hopefully, be long gone before that happened. "If I could burn you I would" he mutters to his rejected clothes but instead has to settle with tossing them, and the remnants of the handcuffs, in the trash. There was also the tool belt filled with gadgets and weapons that Harry picks up, and before he can have any dangerous thoughts about them, holds out towards Peter. "Trade you for the cellphone

Peter tilts his chin, looking up at the now disguised Harry, and nods. He snatches the weapons before his friend could think twice about giving them up, and holds out his phone to be used. “Who are you calling?” He asks, softly clicking his teeth together behind a closed mouth. He might be more excited than Harry to get this whole escaping thing over with. The sooner they were away from Ravencroft, the better off they'd both be. Harry just shushes Peter as he grabs the phone away from the taller boy, quickly typing in the memorized number of who he hoped would be the solution to their problem.   
With only a few rings someone answers. "Felicia?" Harry asks, ensuring it was his brunette former assistant on the other end. Harry glances up at Peter and smirks before continuing his conversation. "Yeah...it's me. Look, could you come and pick me up? I'm at a gas station across the street from the institution, it's a really long story but..." He hesitates, he couldn't exactly tell Felicia that he had escaped after all "I'm out." He decides on instead "And they don't exactly have a chauffeur service out here" he chuckles dryly before pausing to listen to the girl's response. "Yeah..okay.. Thank you" he smiles before hanging up the phone and smugly handing it back to Peter. "She'll be here in ten minutes" he grins.


	6. Felicia, Our Savior.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicia is here!

Peter huffs, leaning back against the wall of the dingy bathroom while he waits for Harry to make the call. He raises an eyebrow upon hearing the somewhat familiar name of ‘Felicia’ spoken, though he wasn't sure he could place a face to it. Harry might have mentioned her before. .?  
He purses his lips in thought, averting brown eyes to the ceiling as he listened to the conversation, or at least, what was audible of it. “Ten minutes?” He asks then, straightening his posture and holding out his free hand to accept his phone back. “What are we going to do for ten minutes?” Conversing and hiding from possible police in a gas station bathroom wasn't exactly the most fun thing he's done all week, but Peter wasn't sure what else to do at the moment besides bid their time.

Harry hands Peter back his phone without bothering to give any explanation of who the girl he had convinced to pick them up was, especially since Peter didn't really ask. "Tell scary stories? Cuddle?" Harry teases at Peter's next question before immediately shrugging after he's spoken "I don't know...you could...tell me what's new. With you...or like...the world? I'm not even exactly sure what month it is or how long I've been gone" he admits. 

It was strange to think that he was joking around and laughing with Harry, when really, it hadn't been too long ago since they were more or less fighting to the death. And Peter blamed the goblin for murdering Gwen, however more than anything, he blamed himself. He could have caught her just a moment sooner. . .   
He shakes those thoughts from his mind though, hating the fact that he dwelled on them too much, and shoves his phone back where it originally had resided. He hums softly, finding himself staring at the ground before his attention is brought back. “— the world. Right. Well, the sky's still blue, birds still chirp. . .” He quirks his lips up in a little half smile, crossing his ankles now as he leaned against the wall. “Ah, let's see. . . It's March. Been about six or seven months since, y’know. . .” Peter brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, unable to help the small grimace in which wavers his expression. He shrugs though, as if it were no big deal. The soft collar of his jacket presses into his hand still resting at the nape of his skull with the action. — They didn't have to talk about any of what had happened. At least, he didn't want to right now. “I think it's the 11th,” he adds, awkwardly letting his hand drop to his side again. “As for scary stories go though, I'm lookin at one. I mean, no offense,” he laughs “but you look like crap. And your /hair/. I know I've said it before but you really got to do something about that mess.” He smiles in strive of lightening the mood, sliding to the right a bit in order to glance at himself in the small and dirty bathroom mirror. “Yeah,” he muses, “I definitely look a lot better than you. But that's nothing new. . .”

Six/or seven/ months...he wasn't sure if he had expected it to be shorter or longer. Time had seemed to stand still inside Harry's walls and he hasn't really thought much about the fact that Peter had been out in the world, watching it change, watching the seasons go by. A torture all its own...even if it wasn't exactly physical.   
Harry frowns taking to sitting with his legs crisscrossed on the floor, despite the uncleanliness, he didn't think he could count on his legs to hold him up. "Right” he says softly, he certainly didn't need or want any reminder of the subject and he knew Peter wouldn't want to talk about it either. Which was why he was glad when Peter smoothly changed the subject-even if it was to make fun of Harry's appearance.   
Harry scoffs slightly at Peter's statement, even as he slides a self-conscious hand through his once pristine hair. "Yeah, whatever dude. I'd like to see you go six months without all that hair gel you need." He chided resting his back against the cool tile wall and hugging his arms to his chest in a protective position. Peter watches his friend with concern, eyebrows pinched together with it. He sighs, pinching the tip of his tongue between his teeth. His hair didn't have that much gel in it. . . “You alright?” he asks, tilting his head to the side in a slight manner. He would have made his way to sit next to Harry, comfort him in some way, but he didn't want to make a wrong move somehow. He still had to remember that Harry was — well, /sick/ to put it nicely. “Want something to eat? I could go buy a bag of chips or something real quick. . .” He pushes himself away from the wall, checking his pockets for his wallet now, mentally sighing in relief when he felt it there. But if he left the room to get something that would mean leaving Harry alone. And he wasn't sure if he could trust that just yet. But how bad could it be? He would be able to notice his friend exiting the place, and why would he anyway?— Felicia, or whatever, would be here soon enough.   
Peter could leave for a minute if he needed to.

Harry glances up at his still standing friend and raises his eyebrows at the concern etched in his features. And for many obvious reasons he felt the familiar pool of guilt bottom up in his stomach. He had done absolutely nothing to earn that kind of look, and even though he knew that Peter had forgiven him, he still wanted to try and actually earn it. /Sickness/ or not.  
Harry shakes his head, despite his growling stomach, managing to chuckle lightly "Calm down Parker. Im just...tired, ya know.. " he shrugs glancing away from his friend's brown eyes to look at the white socks on his own feet-man he wished Ravencroft had allowed shoes.  
"Running across the street was like, the most exercise I've had in a while" he says, because it was always easier to make jokes about problems then actually admit to anything being wrong. "Besides I'm not eating anything that comes out of this place. But hey, you can feel free to if you really want."

Peter grunts, rolling his eyes. “Whatever,” he mumbles. “What did they feed you there, anyway?” It couldn't be any better than the meals they had served at school. Peter didn't eat them much there in the first place, but from what he remembered, the mystery meat was hardly meat at all. More like condensed dog food.   
While waiting for both a response and the time to go by, the taller boy pulls his phone from his pocket to check the clock. 6:43 p.m. 11th. He was right.

Harry frowns feeling he had somehow made the situation worse by denying the offered food. "Oh you know...shrimp, steak, caviar..only the best" Harry responds sarcastically because he really didn't want to remember the food he was usually too paranoid to eat since he was so sure that the doctors had drugged it.  
Harry lets out a breath, glancing back up at his companion who, apparently, was done really talking, since he was looking at his phone…it made sense considering half of what they were saying was jokes and things to make the heaviness of their predicament not seem so severe. But, whether it was just because Harry didn't have a phone of his own to waste time on at the moment, he felt strangely upset at Peter playing around on his device "Damn, did I bore you that easily?" He says, trying to keep his voice light as before but it ended up just sounding bitter. "Felicia will probably call you back on that phone when she gets here" he adds quickly, pushing himself back to his feet in the hopes that the ten minutes had already passed.

Peter laughs, nodding along to the caviar statement, and shakes his head “I'm just passing the time, dude. — /oh/ — right — ” He looks up, jaw falling, mouth opening slightly. He presses the palm of his hand to his forehead before letting it drop. “I'm so sorry. You wanted to cuddle. I totally spaced that.” He abandons his phone now, however, just as he was about to put it in his pocket, it begins to vibrate and ring. “Hm, speak of the devil,” he mumbles, staring at the unknown number on his screen. “Guess we'll have to cuddle later, Osborn~” he jokes before tossing the ringing device toward the other boy across from him, deciding to let him answer it instead. Yeah, Peter could see how it would go if he answered; ‘hi, I'm the one who broke Harry out of jail, can you take us somewhere where the police won't find us for a while?’  
Well, he wouldn't really say that, but. . . It /was/ the truth.

Harry can't help but laugh, his most genuine one so far, shaking his head at Peter's statement "Shut up" he mutters catching Peter's tossed phone in his hands and hurriedly answering it with a simple "Hey."  
There's only a few seconds of silence, enough for the girl on the other end to reply with her equally simple 'I'm here'.

"Be right there" Harry says before hanging up, she would find out soon enough that Harry wasn't alone in his need for transportation. Then again, Felicia was never the kind to ask questions, it was one of the reasons Harry had liked having her around so much. "Our savior has arrived" Harry smirks, handing Peter back the phone as he hurries his way of the bathroom and to the sleek black car that was parked just outside. Also outside though, a van with the words Ravencroft printed on the side, and a few men with clothes that matched perfectly with Harry's new disguise. Harry hisses in a breath taking a step back hoping they didn't see him, his hand instinctively shooting back to grab Peter's forearm.

“We're good,” Peter mumbles as he spots the guards milling around. They wouldn't notice Harry (hopefully) right away, considering the fact that he was disguised as one of their own. As for Peter though, he was just a regular kid who happened to be walking behind a guard, minding his own business.   
As long as they didn't run and bring attention to themselves they would be fine.   
Peter glances down at the hand gripping his arm, and he knew then that his friend was probably moments away from freaking out. Understandable in this case; Pete would be freaking out too at the prospect of going back to a prison where they performed experiments for the fun of it. “We're good,” he repeats, “just don't—”

Before Peter can finish his sentence and warn Harry to not run, the Osborn is doing just that, running in a sprint to the car that’s in sight..   
Maybe running wouldn't bring attention to them? Maybe they could make it to their 'savior,' as Harry had called her moments ago, before the Ravencroft staff had any idea that it was them escaping. Maybe that was simply wishful thinking. . .   
Peter picks up his pace, having no choice but to follow the other; the heels of his feet hitting against the pavement of the ground as punctuation for his thoughts.  
He wasn't sure which car they were escaping to, but it wasn't too hard to guess; a vehicle that practically screamed 'I'm rich' in its black paint job. Even after breaking out of jail, Harry, still, somehow, managed to have style.

No time to think, no time to look around to make sure the guards hadn't spotted them. Harry just ran, his only focus the black car in front of him, his only thought the freedom that he craved.   
He sprints towards the car without even having the time to find the humor in the fact that Felicia had come to fetch him in something so stylish...well, that was probably because she didn't know that this offered ride was actually a getaway car.  
Oh well.   
In a flash Harry reaches the car, yanking on the handle to open the backseat door and all but flings himself inside of it-earning a surprised yelp from the girl occupying the driver’s seat- and scooting over to the other end of the car so to allow Peter to practically dive into the backseat next to him, closing the door behind him with a hook of his foot.   
Peter uses his hands to aid him in sitting up straighter, his spine pressing against the leather behind him. “What the hell?” He twists in order to glance out the window, gaze flicking back and forth to see if anyone was either following them, or coming up to search the car. As long as Felicia started to drive, they might be okay. . .Harry turns around in the same fashion as Peter, checking to see if anyone was running after the car then sighing in relief when it turned out they weren't....yet at least.   


The taller boy turns to glare at his friend though, eyes narrowed. “You realize, that running could have brought more attention to us?”

"Well excuse me, I saw guards and I panicked.." Harry admits, as his blue gaze stay fixed on the guards.

Peter scoots a little bit toward the middle of the seat, peeking up at the figure in the driver's seat out of curiosity. And no, he doesn't ever remember meeting this girl despite the name being familiar. He'd recall seeing her before. “. . . Hello~” he says, lifting two fingers as way of greeting.

The brunette girl looks at the stranger that was the taller boy "Hey.." She responds to him, her voice laced with suspicion and curiosity. Her eyes flicker to Harry who has faced forward again and he gives her a grin "Felicia, Peter. Peter, Felicia.. Now that we're all acquainted, let's get out of here." Harry says.

  
Felicia narrows her eyes at the pair, "Sooner or later I'm gonna get an explanation, but for now, I'll take you guys to my place...you're obviously in some kind of trouble.." She points out and then, without another word, turns back to the steering wheel in front of her and quickly drives off.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I roleplay as Harry on Instagram. This is a roleplay that is currently in progress. So credit to my Peter for those responses. I thought it was pretty awesome so I decided to compile it here. If you like it let me know and I'll add more!


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